South Canterbury Times. THURSDAY, FEB. 26, 1880.

South Canterbury Times, Issue 2166, 26 February 1880, Page 2

South Canterbury Times. THURSDAY, FEB. 26, 1880.

Caxtkkiiukv may hide lier diminished bead. There is no doubt nbont it. Henceforth she must take a-back seat. She must come down from her lofty pedestal. Cracefully or clumsily, she must step aside and give way to Southland—cold, bleak, uncharitable Southland. Mr Walter IT. Pearson, Chief Commissioner of Waste Lands, has said it, and who will gainsay such an authority ? “ Who is Mr Walter IT. Pearson ?” some of our readers may ask. We are astonished at the question. A gentleman who holds the topmost place on the pinnacle of fame—the beloved of the Muses —the lyrical genius of the Nineteenth Century—should be as well

known as Baron Munchausen or the Czar of All the Bnssias. Mr Pearson, briefly, is an intellectual giant beside whom the united intelligence of the rest of mankind is a pigmy. Although he resides in Southland, where he is Chief Commissioner of Crown Lands, his capacious soul scrutinises the whole of creation. A few months ago, this gentleman, who is constantly soaring in the realms of imagination, devoted some attention to marine curiosities, and he produced an epic poem called “ The Domestic Oyster,” which placed the wildest produc-

tions of Jules Verne at a disadvantage, startled the litcraty of New Zealand,

and shook the pillars of the state—with wonder—no, but laughter. Since then Mr Pearson, the poetic, who traced the infant oyster’s progress from the moment that it sucked its first mosrcl of sub marine nutriment, till it boldly launched itself on the troubled ocean of life, has been silently undergoing a kind of transmutation. Prom floundering in the sea and watching the wayward antics and habits of the infant oyster, he has betaken himself to dry land, and in his capacity of Chief Commissioner of that article lie lias indulged in a little bit of spicy word painting. The students of prose-poetry and bad English, can see and judge for themselves. Under the heading of “ Government Notices ’’—Land for settlement ! Area of Agricultural land open for sale in Southland ! ” Mr Pearson’s latest composition appears in the advertising columns of the Dunedin “ Morning Herald.”

That an advertisement hearing the name of Mr Walter H. Pearson, “ Chief Commissioner of Waste Lands Board, Southland,” should be bighty poetic, pictorial, and spiced with a good deal of imaginative flavoring need excite no surprise. Mr Pearson,- whose knowledge of the world’s surface, like his acquaintance with the gambols and views and experiences of (he infant oyster, is quite unlimited, has declared that there is only one agricultural paradise in this hemisphere, and it is Southland. After specifying in very round figures hundreds of thousands of acres—the quantity of “land covered with bush, which, when cleared, is of superior quality for agriculture,” to be found in Southland, be describes it thus :

“ The average quality of the soil is equal to any in the Australasian colonies, and, from climatic influences, is capable of growing not merely excellent wheat, but first-class oats and barley, and is peculiarly adapted for raising turnips and artificial grasses, thereby enabling the farmer to keep his land in perfect heart by a rotation of cropping ; manure his land by feeding off his green crops with sheep and cattle, and keep him independent of a bad market for any particular cereal.'’

Any lesser authority on the subject of the capabilities and quality of the soil of Southland might bo questioned, but the assertion, of Chief Commissioner Dearson is indisputable. For why? Haslie not travelled all over the Australian colonics? Have not his researches exceeded those of a Burke, a Wills, a Stuart, or a Mclnlay ? He may not have accomplished his journey on foot, on horseback, or on the shoulders of a camel, but. bis explorations on bis line old reliable bobby-horse—-a vivid and poetic imagination —fairly overshadow the discoveries of such ordinary mortals, as even a Stanley, a 1 /ivingstono, a Mungo Park or a Leitchardt. The old thcoiy that it was the soil which brings forth is exploded too, for Mr Pearson assures ns that the qualify of the soil “ from climatic influences ” is capa.blc of growing excellent wheat, &c. But poets of 1 the great Pearson stamp, have a faculty for exploding scientific fallacies, just as they have a license to murder the Queen’s English. Mr Pearson goes on to declare that the quality which grows “not merely excellent wheat, but first-class oats and barley ” is—wonderful to relate— “peculiarly adapted for raising turnips and artificial grasses.” We are astonished that Mr Pearson stopped short at grasses, and that he failed to add that its capacity for growing “ artificial flowers ” would yefc extinguish one of the greatest of Parisian industries. But one of the most wonderful attributes of Southland is that “all over the district there is first-class limestone cropping out to fertilize the land when it may require it.” Who ever dreamed of such a mechanical agency in nature ? Imagine a district with “ first-class limestone cropping out to fertilize flic land.” Still more wonderful is the beautiful discrimination, the exemplary thoughtfulness of tliis playful and projecting limestone not to overdo the thing, hut “to fertilize the land when it may require it.” Was it the- fertilizing influence of this wonderful self-distribut-ing limestone that inspired the next sentence ?

“ Forests of large extent scattered over it, providing timber for building and fencing, and coal (lignite and the best brown coals) for fuel everywhere obtainable.”

Talk about a land overllowing with milk and hone}'! Here is a Carden of Eden—an earthly paradise if you like Further on we are told that it abounds with railways constructed, or to come,

“And timber, lime, and coal can be distributed over the country at a minimum cost.”

And now Mr Pearson, Chief Commissioner of Waste Lunds, and author of the “Oyster” and other poems, proceeds to show by a comparative analysis, extending over a number of years, that as far as regards the production of cereals, Otago and Southland completely take the palm from Canterbury. Perhaps it is unfortunate for Southland, seeing that it is only a fragment of Otago, that the places must be linked together, but the statistics have evidently answered the purpose of the poetic Commissioner. It will probably astonish, if it don’t annoy some of our readers, to learn that in 1878, just seven years ago, the statistics of the colony show that while Canterbury had an average of ’2l:, bushels of wheat to the acre, the average for Otago and Southland was 29J. At the same time, if much reliance is to be placed in these statistics —and wc have a strung idea that they are utterly worthless and fearfully misleading—it will gratify them to learn that Canterbury is recovering herself, and that in 1878, the latest date quoted by Mr Pearson, she was on exactly

level terms with her southern neighbor so far as wheat is concerned. In oats, however, there is a considerable falling off, and in barley, wonderful to relate, Canterbury, after a close contest uith Otago and Southland for several joais ■ running neck and neck in 1877 allowed herself hi 1878 to be fairly beaten. While we have our own opinion about the value of these returns, and it is not a high one, we cannot help thinking that the fertility of the forestclad, limestone-cropping, rotatory-crop-ping, coal-impregnated, and artificial grass-growing soil of Southland must

have been, in times past, as sadly underrated as the fertility of Mr Pearson’s imagination, when the land which that gentleman is advertising fails to find purchasers on deferred payments at 2os to ;50s per acre. It may be that the forests are a stumbling block with agricultural settlers and speculators. There is such a thing as too much of a good thing, anil it is quite possible for the superabundance of building and fencing material to be a drawback to settlement. Southland must be in a bad predicament when the romantic and inventive flights of Mr Pearson have to come to its assistance; and its dense scrub, which usually costs more than the soil is worth to clear, lias to be painted out of sight by an unscrupulous enthusiast. AVe should have no particular fault to find with the Chief Commissioner of Waste Lands in Southland, if he only conlined his attention to such harmless edibles as (he domestic oyster and crayfish, and so forth, lint when he endeavors to draw com parisons and inferences regarding the merits of Canterbury and Southland as a held for settlement, we must remind him that even a Chief Commissioner is not justified in wilfully endeavoring to mislead intending settlers. His concluding assertion that “this year the thermometer at Invercargill has averaged higher than any part of the Middle Island, and most parts of the ■North Island, while there has been very considerable less rainfall than in any part of the Colony,” is on a par with the rest of bis statements. Chief Commissioner Pearson, of Southland, may eulogise the climate and soil of his native haunts to his heart’s content, but if he is wise he will refrain from drawing invidious comparisons with other parts of the colony. The relative value of laud for settlement in Southland and Canterbury has been satisfactorily tested for years under the hammer of the auctioneer, and no amount of fanciful, air-drawn, and fantastic assertions on the part of a Chief Commissioner can alter the fact that for agricultural purposes, the land of Canterbury is vastly superior to that of Southland. There is an old saying that “ good wine needs no bush,” and if the 300,000 acres of Waste Land now offered by the Sou thland Land Board was of much account, it would not require the raphsodical trumpetings of Chief Commissioner Pearson.